


Reinventing a Lost Art

by ihoardlibrarians



Category: Emelan - Tamora Pierce
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-21
Updated: 2018-01-30
Packaged: 2018-12-05 01:15:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,022
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11567265
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ihoardlibrarians/pseuds/ihoardlibrarians
Summary: Briar goes on a series of terrible dates. Tris witnesses each fiasco with growing amusement and befriends the man with strange tattoos on his hands.





	1. Right Through Your Teeth

     Tris had a preferred spot at the coffee shop on the corner. It was a small table meant for two near the door, but she always sat alone, books spread out on the table and extra chair as she studied. A fellow grad student tried to sit with her once, but her gray eyes burned through him and the air around her grew uncomfortably tight with static. Tris would rather sit alone. She liked her table because it was right next to the door and she could catch snips of conversation on the breeze whenever someone came into the shop. It helped her to stay sharp, an exercise in splitting her attention.

     One morning, something changed in the coffee shop. She arrived at her usual time and turned toward her usual table to find it unusually occupied. The perpetrator sat with his back to the door, so he didn’t see the plump redhead stutter to a halt and backpedal away from him. Daja and Sandry, a couple who also frequented the coffee shop, did. They hid their smiles behind their hands as Tris glared at them from across the room. At a loss, Tris plopped herself down in the first open chair and watched the man sitting at her table carefully.

     The door opened and Tris was relieved to feel a springtime breeze enter the shop. Her new seat wasn’t quite the best, but the breeze had no trouble coming to her to deliver gossip. Tris was satisfied enough to let her table go for the day. With the breeze entered a young woman with dark, curly hair and a small nose that turned up at the end. The man who had taken Tris’ table must have sensed her entrance because he was already standing and turning to greet her.

     She watched under her lashes as the man pulled out the chair Tris never let anyone touch and offered it to the pretty woman. He whispered something in the girl’s ear and she laughed. Tris resisted the urge to eavesdrop on them. She turned her eyes back down toward her book and tried to focus on the weather patterns of the eastern seaboard and how they influenced the earth in which things grew. She highlighted sentences that she might need to remember and jotted down questions she wanted to ask on color coordinated index cards.

     The breeze that came to her had circled the coffee shop and returned, like a cat seeking momentary affection. Tris was distracted listening to a conversation between Daja and Sandry about Mayor Vedris’ plans to improve the city when she felt a presence behind her shoulder. She broke off contact with the breeze and ushered it away.

     “It’s rude to read over someone’s shoulder, especially when that someone is a stranger,” she snapped. She kept her eyes down, though she couldn’t focus on the words anymore.

     A warm laugh startled her further. “Sorry, Coppercurls,” said the man. “I just recognized the book and wanted to see what the blowhard Professor Crane had to say about groundwater swell that I didn’t learn back in my undergrad.”

     Tris snorted. “Professor Crane can be a bit dry, that’s true.” She glanced up at him. “You studied the weather in your undergrad?” she asked.

     The man shrugged, his hands locked on two paper cups that steamed slightly. Tris was caught off guard by his hands. They were covered in flowers that seemed to move. She blinked and rubbed her eyes beneath her glasses. The flowers on his hands were still there, but they stopped moving. Tris shook her head.

     The man noticed where her attention had gone and frowned at his ornate hands. “Had to,” he said. “I got my Bachelor’s in crop sciences and now I’m doing Masters in Horticulture. Weather means an awful lot to the survival of all plants.”

     “I don’t think I spend enough time thinking about that,” Tris admitted. The man raised both eyebrows at her.

     “If you want to think more about it, I suggest looking into Professor Niva Rosethorn’s work. She and Crane used to work together so there are some similarities in study, but lots of philosophical differences that you might like to compare.” The man raised one of his cups in a salute and walked back over to his companion, sliding into the chair across from her.

     Tris turned back to her book, feeling unnaturally warm. She called for her breeze and sent it around the shop a few times to get the dead air moving. As her breeze moved around the room, Tris caught snippets of the man’s conversation with the dark haired woman. She plucked out words and sentences when she could, but it was mostly flirtatious babble. She hoped for something more interesting from a man who knew Professor Isas Crane’s work at a glance. It wasn’t long before the babble took a turn.

     “Oh my god, I think that’s Sandry Toren.”

     “Leave her alone, Caidy.”

     “But, Briar, Vedris does whatever she wants, we should talk to her.”

     Tris glanced up at the couple by the door. Caidy looked feverish but Briar was just bored. Sandry didn’t notice their conversation; she was deep in discussion with Daja over the details of their latest projects.

     “About what?” Briar asked. He fiddled with his napkin, subtly folding it until it resembled a small crane. Tris squinted at his hands. She could have sworn that the flowers were red earlier when they spoke, now they were blue. What was going on with this man?

     “Maybe they can do something about all those kids camped in the park!”

     Briar stopped fiddling with his crane and leaned forward on his elbows. “What would you have Mayor Vedris do?” he asked.

     “It’s his job to keep public areas safe, he should be clearing out the parks and arresting any vagrants hiding there,” Caidy declared. She sat back in her chair, smug. Tris scowled at her book, disgusted that she once thought as Caidy did.

     Tris heard a chair scrape and looked up in time to see Briar leap to his feet.

     “I was one of those vagrants, Caidy. I didn’t have a real home until I was ten and I found that by luck. Not every kid gets that.” Caidy reached out to him, but he jerked his arm away. “I don’t think this will work out. Enjoy your coffee.” Briar turned on his heel and left the coffee shop without looking back. Tris watched as Caidy sat, dumbfounded. It wasn’t long before she felt everyone’s stares on her and she left.

     “Going to claim your rightful place?” Daja had snuck up on Tris as Briar had earlier.

     “I think I’ll pass today,” Tris said as she gathered her books. “I don’t think I’ll get much done now with all that unresolved energy in here.” Daja shrugged. She and Sandry left the shop as well, arms looped around each other’s waists. Tris found her breeze and brought it back outside where she released it into the wind. She would come earlier next week, just in case someone tried to take her usual table again. It was an interesting day, but she hoped the man with the strange hands would not come back.


	2. Don't Look Back

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Briar's second blind date goes about as well as the first.
> 
> CW/TW: discussion of excluding bisexuals from queer spaces

It didn’t matter that Tris showed up earlier the next week. Someone still occupied what she considered the best table in the whole café. Fortunately, it wasn’t the man with the floral hands or anyone else that might make Tris backpedal in terror. Instead, it was Sandry and Daja smiling innocently as Tris scowled down at them.

“You both know that this is my table. Get up.” Tris dropped her bag on the floor next to Sandry’s feet.

“Why can’t we sit together for once?” Daja asked. Her braids clicked together as she turned in her chair to face the plump redhead.

“This table is barely big enough for two which means it’s perfect for just me.” Tris crossed her arms. “Besides, what would we talk about? You two are very wrapped up in each other.”

Sandry grinned wickedly at Daja as she reached under the table to squeeze her knee. “She’s got us there.”

“That she does.”

“We’ve all been coming to the same place for so long,” Sandry explained as she stood. “We thought it’d be nice to be more than just regulars. To be friends.”

“I have enough friends,” Tris said, unsure.

“Well, if you change your mind, Sandry and I like getting lunch at Gorse’s down the road.” Daja stood and pulled out her chair so Tris could sit. The redhead scowled, making the other girls laugh. Sandry took Daja’s hand and pulled her away and toward the coffee counter where they normally sit.

Tris sat down with a huff, savoring her favorite seat before she pulled out her books. She had moved on from groundwater swell. Now her books were about medicine, antidotes, poisons, and plagues. Her field of study was so broad; she could justify any book as schoolwork. Her professor usually let her, too. One of the books she plopped on her table was titled “Worry in the Water” by Niva Rosethorn and Isas Crane, with a forward by her own professor, Niko Goldeye.

“I stole your seat last week, didn’t I?”

Tris squeaked and dropped her book. She ducked down to pick it up, but hands covered in flowers and vines already held it for her to take. She took the book, careful not to touch his hands.

She stared at the book and fought to maintain her composure. She felt a crackle at her temple where a loose thread of hair escaped. She smoothed it back; willing it to cling to her braids and took a deep breath. The man—Briar, Tris remembered—pulled out the chair across from her and sat down. She noticed how comfortable he was already, as if they had more than half of a conversation between them.

“Yes, you did,” Tris finally confirmed. Briar chuckled.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “It was the best choice if I needed a quick escape.”

Tris arched an eyebrow as she studied him through her wireframe glasses. “Do you often need to plan escapes from your dates?”

Briar shrugged. “It never hurts to be prepared.” He looked down at the book Tris still clutched. “I see you took my advice. How’s Rosethorn treating you?”

Tris felt herself relax. Briar may have seemed as if he was from a different world, like Daja or Sandry, but he was an academic. He recommended a book and she liked it.

“Very well, actually,” she said. “It turns out that my professor knows her. He got me this book once I read through all of her journals. She’s…” Tris paused, looking for the right word to describe the prickly writer she’d come to admire. “Intense.”

Briar laughed again and Tris finally laughed too. Maybe Daja and Sandry had a point about making friends.

“Intense is a good word for her. I’ll have to let her know she has a new fan. She’ll be thrilled.”

They smiled at each other. Tris felt the awkward silence creeping up on them like the rising tide. She blurted out the first thing she thought could be small talk. “Do you have another date?”

Briar opened his mouth and closed it, caught off guard. “Yes, actually,” he said.

Tris nodded. “I’m surprised you’re having it here considering last time.” She busied herself with arranging her notecards and pens, opening her book where she left off, and avoiding Briar’s eyes.

“If I’m going to suffer through a blind date, I’m going to do it with good coffee,” he replied. He looked at Tris, her hands busy with organizing her highlighters in three different ways until she found the configuration the suited her. “I better go find a seat.” He pushed away from the table and Tris didn’t look up. She was afraid of the disappointment she felt. “Thanks for the chat, Coppercurls.”

“My name is Tris.”

Briar smiled and walked away. He found a pair of armchairs angled toward each other with a straight path to the door if he needed to get out. He settled in and waited, stealing glimpses at the redhead scribbling away on index cards while her eyes darted across the pages of her books. There was something odd about the way air moved near her. As odd as the way plants moved near him. He almost missed his date walking through the door, a gust of wind mussing up the man’s dark, curly hair.

Briar stood, wary of the handsome man his friend Evvy set him up with this week. A lot of ugliness could hide behind a pretty smile. Briar shook his concerns from his mind and stood up to greet Quen. They shook hands, but it felt so impersonal to Briar.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” Quen said.

“Yeah, you too, thanks so much for meeting me. Would you like a coffee? My treat.” Briar felt a breeze tousle his hair as he turned to the register and nearly stepped on Tris. She had her book in hand and was highlighting away as she read.

“Are you going to read as you order?” Briar asked.

“I would read in my sleep if I could.”

“Of course.”

“Is that your date?” Tris asked without looking up.

“Yeah, my friend set us up. She said he was more tolerant than Caidy was. We’ll see.”

Tris shrugged. “Everyone’s intolerant about something.”

“And what are you intolerant of?” Briar asked.

“Willful ignorance.” Tris snapped her book shut and placed her order with the cashier before moving down to wait near Sandry and Daja. Briar placed his own order before following the redhead.

Tris glanced over to the dark haired man staring at his phone while waiting for Briar to return. “What’s his name?” She asked. She was surprised that his date was a man, but not by much. She vaguely expected someone small and pretty, and in a way she was right. The man was lovely to look at and even though he was tall, he was lean. Tris could see the appeal.

“Quen. He’s head of security for some politician,” Briar said as he took the coffees from the barista. Tris was already sipping at her drink.

“I hope he’s nice,” Tris said, sincerely. As she walked away, Briar felt another breeze drift by, touching his face. There was something strange about that girl.

Briar returned to Quen and Tris returned to studying. Her breeze wafted around the café, picking up conversations and bringing pieces of them back to Tris. She dismissed most of it, uninterested in eavesdropping on Sandry and Daja and trying very hard to focus on her studies. She couldn’t dismiss Briar and Quen’s conversation, though.

“I’m glad you asked me out for coffee and not drinks,” Quen said.

“I don’t drink,” Briar confessed. “I don’t like the way it makes me feel.”

“Like you’re not in control?”

“Like I’m trapped inside myself.”

“I get that,” Quen said. “I always end up feeling way too much all at once. I wish there were gay cafes!”

“That would be cool,” Briar said. “A safe place for the queer community to meet without the pressure of alcohol. It’d be nice.”

“Yeah! We can’t be the only gay men who don’t drink. And there are teenage boys out there struggling with their identity,” Quen said.

“Right…” Briar sounded hesitant to Tris. She resisted the urge to look up.

“If we had more spaces like that then things wouldn’t be such a mess,” Quen said.

“What do you mean?” Briar asked.

“Well, I dated this guy last year and the reason we broke up is because he kept insisting he was bi and wouldn’t just let himself be gay. It was taxing. I had to get out.” Quen took a long sip of his coffee. Tris risked a glance at Briar and locked eyes with him. She shook her head slightly, unsure of what she was saying no to. Briar closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

“You broke up with a guy because he was bisexual?” Briar asked.

“Bisexual, repressed, same thing. It’s just an excuse, don’t you think? ‘I’m not completely gay! I belong in straight spaces!’ Poor guy.”

Tris was no longer pretending not to listen. She gaped at Quen, appalled on Briar’s behalf.

“Quen, I don’t think this is going to work out. You should leave.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I’m not the kind of guy you want to be sitting with, is all.” Briar clenched his jaw and stared down at his hands. Tris thought the flowers looked unusually droopy today.

“Why? Do you think you’re bi?” Quen asked. “Honey, that’s okay, we can talk about it. Maybe getting into more gay events will help—”

“Quen!” Briar’s sudden volume startled the other customers who were pretending not to be invested in the conversation playing out in the middle of the café. He took a deep breath before speaking again, lower. “I’m pansexual. I date women, men, nonbinary people, whoever I connect to regardless of their gender. There’s no connection here.” Quen gaped at Briar, but he didn’t move. Briar rolled his eyes and stood. “Fine. I’ll leave.”

He started for the door, but Tris kicked the chair across from her out as he got close to her table.

“You shouldn’t be the one to leave,” she said.

Briar froze and stared at the offered chair. He sat down across from her. “Thanks, Coppercurls.”

Tris shot a disgusted glare at Quen. The handsome man scowled back at her and tossed his coffee into the trash before storming out of the cafe. Briar deflated the second the door closed, his head in his hands.

“One date. ONE DATE. Is that too much to ask?”

Tris awkwardly patted Briar’s shoulder from across the table.

“Maybe Evvy will do better for you next time.”

Briar barked a sharp laugh before looking up at Tris. “If she thinks she’s setting me up again, she has another thing coming.”

**Author's Note:**

> Title taken from Tokyo Rose's song, Right Through Your Teeth. Please go listen to this now disbanded band. They are great and all of their stuff is on Youtube.


End file.
